The Black Polo of Eternal Angst
by SparkilyDragnStikers
Summary: Do you ever find angst to be a bit... over the top? You ain't seen nothing yet. Kaoru is feeling angsty. VERY angsty. VERY. Humorously so.


**The Black Polo of Eternal Angst**

Summary: Kaoru is feeling rather angsty. We suggest you read this aloud in your most angsty voice to get the full effect. If you take this seriously, you are sideways. (By the way, this is SparkilyDragonStickers and FRIEND, bored at 1 am and sick of annoying angst)

Disclaimer: The black polo belongs to Troy from High School Musical, but we stole it.…he's not using it anyway. We also don't own Ouran High School Host Club, 'cause if we did….you'd know 'cause our name would be 'I am the Author of this Manga'. But it's not, so we don't.

I thunked my cup down onto the kitchen table. Recently I have found it easier to take my meals alone. Hikaru's usually gone off on some new adventure with Haruhi by the time I drag myself out of our cold bed. I lift my gaze to the arch window. The sky is a gloomy shade of gray. Not like any shade of gray is particularly cheerful anyway. He will probably comfort her when it begins to rain. I sigh back into my cup.

My coffee is bitter, like my soul.

I could add sugar, I suppose. Dilute it with milk. But I won't. I will drink it. Drink it though it is chilled and disgusting and makes my face pull into a grimace. I will drink it. I will drink it so that I do not have to punish myself in other ways.

I gasp as my hand, which is shaking from the pain I feel from within, lets slip the mug ever so slightly, and lukewarm coffee sloshes onto my shirt.

It does not matter. I am wearing the black polo. Nothing can stain it. Not even my heart which bleeds beneath it.

The coffee moves through my system like venom. I wish it were venom. Ending my pain. Then Hikaru would see. He would know. He would regret.

I want to make him regret.

But not now. Now, though the coffee bestows upon me no pep, it does make me need to release my bladder. It is difficult to decide whether it is worth the effort of standing up to take care of this matter, or if I should just plunge a knife into my chest and not have to deal with it. However, I decide that I do not want to die with a full bladder. It is most unbecoming. Hikaru would not feel so bad if my jeans were soaked in piss.

Each step I take hurts me, as if someone has poked dry noodles into my skin like acupuncture—pricking, making me bleed. But I do not bleed. I am denied this comfort.

When I have finished relieving myself and can die without shame, I exit the bathroom and find myself face to face with

Myself.

"Hey, Kaoru!" he says in that guiltless voice. As though he has done nothing

wrong.

I reply, "Hi!"

He moves past me into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He is unaware of the pain he has caused me. He did not even realize that I am wearing the black polo. He has never realized what that even means.

I go back downstairs.

My cup is still sitting on the table where I left it—empty and alone. Like me. We are the same. I tip it over onto its side so that it can also be sideways. Like me.

I sit and stare at it for a long while, until I hear those footsteps on the steps.

My brother comes bounding into the room, causing a fountain of bitter energy to erupt somewhere in the vicinity of my spleen. Or perhaps my appendix is rupturing. I can always hope.

"I'm going to hang out with Haruhi," he says. "Want to come?"

"No," I say. He cocks his head to the side.

"Suit yourself."

And he leaves me alone. Like he always leaves me alone.

I remember how things used to be. I remember how I could watch you sleep. How I would meticulously fold your underwear and lay it in the drawers. How I could pretend to need a toothbrush so that I could watch you shower. Those were the days. The days when I was complete. Then you met her, and these brotherly activities ceased.

I feel the tears beginning to press against my eyeballs. Would that I could rip them out and let those tears flow like waterfalls. Bloody waterfalls. Perhaps I could drown.

As the tears fall, I hear the rain begin outside the window. How fitting it is. It calls to me. "Kaoru!" it says. "Come join us in our sorrow."

But I do not go.

It is my destiny to be alone.

My tears fall harder.

The rain falls harder.

And I decide that today is not a good day.

By the time my tears slow, I find that my coffee cup has been refilled by them. It has also been righted. The tears are crystal clear in the cup, but the cup is black, so I cannot see the bottom.

My body is dehydrated from all of my weeping.

I replenish with the contents of the cup.

My tears taste salty and bitter.

Like my soul.

There is a dent in the wall over there where I often hit my head against it repeatedly, when the punishment of the bitter coffee is not enough. I decide that this is something I must do today. Again, walking pains me, but I find solace in the steady rhythm I create.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

…..

Bang.

I do this until I finally collapse from sheer exhaustion of the emotions.

And a bit of a headache.

And as I lay on the cold, COLD ground, soaking into my very bones, I contemplate the window above me. It would be so easy. I could unlatch it with my numb fingers, I could push the plush curtains aside, and I could free fall into the darkness. I could be free from all the pain Hikaru has awoken inside of me. And he would feel my pain. And I would feel nothing.

Nothing.

It is several hours before Hikaru returns. I have not moved from my place on the floor.

"What are you doing?" he asks when he sees me.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Yoga?"

"… Let's go with that."

"What pose it that?"

"Moping Squirrel."

"Okay. Cool. I'll be upstairs."

Of course you will. You always are. Upstairs, while I am left in the dark, dank, spider infested basement of our love.

I do feel a spider as it crawls onto my hand. I must have been still for so long it has accepted me as a part of the furnishings. I allow it to finish its journey. Until it reaches my sleeve.

I do not like this spider all up in my black polo.

I pick the spider off of my arm and throw it away in the garbage. This is a lot of effort for my sad self, and I am rendered comatose for a few more hours.

It is now dark.

Like coffee.

And my soul.

I again contemplate the window. This time, I go so far as to step up to it.

And unlatch it.

And stick my face out into the moonlight.

As is fitting for my usual luck, I feel a squishing sensation as a crow craps on my face.

I expected no less.

But as I pose, ready to jump that final jump, I hear his voice behind me.

"Kaoru? What are doing now?"

He is so innocent. And yet. So. Guilty.

There is a deranged hobbit in my head who is telling me to go with him. To forgive him. To share his bed one last time.

I stare at him through the white haze glued to my eyelashes.

He steps closer to me.

I step closer to him.

I can pretend for one more night.

Despite my better judgement, I leave the window, following the Hobbit's instructions to cling to my brother for one more night.

The End!


End file.
